Om is too stuffy.
Let's just hum like bees
drawn by the fragrance
of a wild dilapidated rose.
Of course this is no
ordinary rose.
These petals
are countless galaxies.
You swarm through
light-years of your wild
dilapidated heart.
The scent that drives
you crazy is the breath
of your Creator.
Forget your own name
in That.
The honey is already made.
Photo by Kristy Thompson
No comments:
Post a Comment